


Virgil Sanders rejects you romantically

by purple_emo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Probably not as funny as it was at 2 AM, i didn't proofread this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_emo/pseuds/purple_emo
Summary: Today is the day you finally ask out the imaginary man of your dreams. Unfortunately for you, he's gay.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Virgil Sanders rejects you romantically

**Author's Note:**

> Happy St. Mary's day; have some nonsense. I came up with this in the middle of the night and laughed for half an hour. This is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing romance.

Today is the day.

You’ve been admiring him from a distance for months now, but today you’ve finally worked up the courage to ask Virgil out. You walk up to his imaginary house and knock on the imaginary door. He opens it.

“Hi, y/n,” he says.

“I’m in love with you,” you say.

You stare at each other in silence for a full ten seconds. “I need a moment,” says Virgil, before closing the door in your face. You wait patiently on his imaginary doorstep for around a minute. He opens the door. “Oh,” he says, “you’re still here.”

“Yeah.”

He nervously runs his fingers through his bangs. “Um, look. I’m not sure how you don’t know this, because I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it to you before, but, um--not that I’m mad at you for not knowing or anything, but--”

“Did you accidentally marry a ghost?” you interrupt him.

“What? No! Nice reference, though.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m actually gay, so, um. I really don’t wanna date you.”

You feel tears forming in your eyes. You begin to emit a high-pitched whine.

“No, don’t cry. We can still be friends?” Virgil clearly has no idea how to respond to this situation. You are sobbing now. Your heart has been shattered into a million pieces. The imaginary neighbors are beginning to stare.

“Okay,” says Virgil, “it looks like you need a minute, so I’m just gonna. . .” he trails off, and then awkwardly shuffles back into his imaginary house, closing the door behind him.

You sit down on the imaginary steps and curl up into a pitiful ball of tears and heartbreak. How could this happen? You thought Virgil was the perfect imaginary man for you. You thought you had decent gaydar. You thought the world was beautiful, but life in this moment feels as dark and smudged as Virgil’s eyeshadow. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, smearing makeup all over your skin. You cry harder, because Virgil likes makeup, and you like Virgil, and Virgil doesn’t want to date you.

The imaginary door opens again. Virgil is back. He hands you an imaginary glass of imaginary water. “I thought you might be dehydrated from all the crying,” he says. He’s so thoughtful.

You take a sip. It tastes like tears, because you are crying into it.

“What if I wore a fake mustache?” you say, barely comprehensible through your tears. “You could pretend I’m a guy. I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s really not how it works,” Virgil says apologetically. He crouches down next to you and awkwardly pats your shoulder.

“I just wanted to kiss an emo!”

Virgil makes an uncomfortable humming sound that you assume is meant to be comforting. You pull him closer. This is the end of all your hopes and dreams. All the joy in your life lies in jagged fragments on the imaginary concrete.

“You’re getting snot on my hoodie,” says Virgil.

“Mgrb,” you reply.

He grabs you by the shoulders and holds you at arm’s length. “Okay, y/n, look. No amount of sobbing is going to make me attracted to women and I’m not really that great at comforting people, and the neighbors are staring, and it’s stressing me out, so please, for the love of all that is holy, just go home and listen to some Evanescence or something. We can talk about this later.”

You nod, still crying.

“Okay, good.” He takes his imaginary glass back and stands up. “Good luck, I guess.” Virgil gives you an awkward thumbs-up, which you return, hand shaking slightly because of the sobbing.

And with that, he steps back inside, and the imaginary front door closes.


End file.
